The X-Project

As he picks up the mask, Gabriel is tempted with what he truly wants.



As Gabriel plunked the mask from the flames, a voice resonated in his head; cloying and unctuous...

"Imagine having what you've always wanted."

His heart was pounding; his stomach, doing flip-flops. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to try and steel himself. Then, he opened them again and stared at his reflection.

Did he look as nervous as he felt? Gabriel wasn't sure. He studied himself in the mirror, wondering if anyone could tell that he was all butterflies underneath his exterior. He wondered if the beard had been a mistake. Maybe he should have been clean-shaven. A different look. More respectable, perhaps? Small concerns; there were more pressing matters.

Like the bow tie, a look that he had insisted on, and yet he had been struggling all morning to tie it. He sighed as he loosened the mess of a knot and once more tried to get it right. Everything had to be right, just so, just so. He didn't know why, he just — he just felt it.

"I'm getting married today," he said, a reminder to shake him from whatever reverie seemed to have taken hold on him. Even as he said it, he wasn't sure he believed it. But there he was, in a midnight blue tux with the black lapels, so it had to be true.

"You are!" Ricardo said, showing up behind him. (Gabriel jumped, briefly dropping the ends of the tie he was fumbling.) "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Your mother is outside trying to tell everyone that your couple's cocktail is your invention and they need to ask for it in their bars." He came over, a hand landing on Gabe's shoulder.

"Sounds like mom." Gabriel smiled as he turned to face his father. "Dad, I..." He didn't know what to say. There was a warmth in his dad's eyes. It calmed him a little, but the butterflies were still there. He searched the other man's expression; he knew his dad was doing the same.

"Bet you never thought you'd see this day," Gabriel said. He reached for the tie again, surprised to find he'd actually finished tying it. So instead, he fiddled with his boutonniere, because he had to channel his restless energy somewhere. "Someone finally making an honest man out of me."

Ricardo came around, adjusting Gabe's tie for a moment. "I'll admit, hijo, we were worried for a while. New York, all the clubs and parties... I know, I was tough on you and you needed to break free. But now... working for the fancy consulting firm. About to get married to a good man." He shook his head. "Wouldn't have thought ten years ago I'd ever have said that, but a good man that you love. You've really made something of yourself."

Gabriel found himself once more at a bit of a loss. He could not recall his dad being so earnest; he was not sure that he'd ever felt so touched by his father's words. "Thanks," he said after a second, trying to hide it. "I mean, you know... I guess I had to get all that out of my system? It was fun, but then I met him." He smiled at that, thinking about his partner. "And he's just... god, I don't know." He chuckled a bit. "He keeps me grounded. Makes me feel safe and loved. Even if he's not at all who I thought I'd end up with."

"Life can be funny like that. But isn't it better, hijo? To have finally found what you really wanted?" His father said, putting his hands on Gabe's shoulders.

There was something so familiar about that touch, even as Gabriel couldn't remember the last time he'd felt his father's hands comforting him like that, the last time he'd seen that mixture of pride and love on his dad's face. He caught their reflection in the mirror and smiled. He was glad he'd decided to shave; it made him look younger, more professional.

His nerves had calmed now. It helped to know that his dad was here to walk him down the aisle, to see him off into his new life, to escort him as he walked down the aisle, his father and mother at either side, under the eyes of his friends and family as he took steps toward...

Toward—

He watched the corner of his mouth shift in the mirror; his brow furrowed. He couldn't picture the man at the end of the aisle. But why? How could he have forgotten his fiancé, who—

Gabriel looked from the reflection back to his dad. Something had shifted, even if he hadn't identified it yet. His palms were sweaty. Maybe it was a panic attack. "My... fiancé, who...?" He murmured, stepping back from his father and out from under his touch.

"Gabriel. It's time. Everyone is waiting for you to start your new life." His father reached out and took him by the elbow. "It's time." He repeated, turning towards the aisle.

It would really be that simple, he realized. His new life: A father who loved him. A mother who was proud of him. Family who came together to support him, to watch him marry a man. Never mind which man; his family approved, they were coming together, that was what mattered.

But it wasn't. It was too nice, too neat, too easy. Too meaningless. He didn't want some body, he wanted somebody, and it had taken him so long to realize that. And this wasn't really what he wanted, was it? One big happy family, but one fake, big, happy family. The picture-perfect family, no homophobic warts to be seen. No rejection, no trauma. A world where he hadn't been broken.

But he had been broken. And then patched up with Scotch tape or glue or stitches and broken anew, over and over again.

"Not right," Gabriel murmured, wresting his elbow free from his father's grasp. "This isn't — this isn't what I..." He stopped and shook his head, because that wasn't entirely true. "Not how I want it."

"Don't waste this chance. You know you won't get this on your own. You need me." Gabe's dad was saying, but in a different voice. "Do you want your family to hate you forever? Stumble around one night stands pretending it means something to someone else? This is your shot."

Gabriel jumped back at the new voice, and for a few seconds, he was stunned into silence. "I don't..." He turned away from his dad, away from the aisle and the altar, unable to bear it. He found himself facing the mirror again, staring at himself. "My shot?" His eyes flicked toward the reflection of his father's face hovering over his shoulder.

"My shot at what?" He whirled back around, his voice now taking on a slight edge. "At going through the motions with my fake marriage, my fake family, pretending it means something?" He shook his head. "You took so much from me," he said, locking his eyes with his dad and his tormenter alike. "You don't get this too."

"Really? Be honest. You've always been weak. Why not make it easy? This is a dream and it will continue, as easy as a wish on a star."

"Weak? That's what you think?" Gabriel couldn't help but respond with a sour smile. "What was it he said?" As if the words hadn't come back to Gabriel over and over it again. "Oh, right. 'Find a person's truth. If you know that, you know the key to controlling them,' right?" He crossed his arms. "Surely, weakness isn't the best thing he could come up with."

"So why hasn't anyone loved you? Gabriel, you aren't good enough without me. You know that." It coming from his father's face was devastating.

“I—“ The smile vanished, and Gabriel’s heart sank as the words threatened to crush him. And for what might have just as easily been a second as ten minutes — he never knew, the whole world had been warped since he was 16 — he wondered if it was true.

“No,” he said, as pained as a syllable could be. “I don’t — no.” He couldn’t bear his dad’s face anymore, and so Gabriel turned away from the aisle and the groom and his family. And he ran, once more a son running from his father, an unholy ghost.

He took one stride after another, not sure where he was going or how he would even get there. The steps kept coming, and the world blurred around him, and he wasn’t sure how many paces he’d taken when, suddenly, he realized, he stopped, holding a mask he’d snatched out of the flames.

Gabriel stared at it blankly. His heart was racing; he felt sweaty and nauseated. With every bit of strength he could muster, he threw the mask at the ground.

He watched it crack in half. Then he stomped on the pieces, breaking each shard anew, over and over and over again.